Saving Sanity
by Angelscribe
Summary: Little does anyone know that Cordy's vision problems are just beginning, but is there one person better qualified than anyone to help?
1. 1

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to Joss Whedon – I'm just borrowing them.

**Notes:** Set during season 1 of **Angel** and the episode entitled **To Shanshu In LA**, when Cordelia's mind was opened to continual visions. Based on the notion that there was only one thing keeping her sane …

Depending on how this goes, it may be the first in a three part series about Cordelia and her problematic visions – the second and third parts dealing with the episodes from season 3, **That Vision Thing** and **Birthday**. But we'll see …

* * *

**SAVING SANITY**

"Where is she?!"

The cool, still calm of the hospital was shattered without pause for ceremony by the crash of the door being thrown back to make way for the headlong flight of the figure dressed in black. Against the backdrop of sterile whiteness, he was starkly out of place and yet neither noticed nor cared. He paused only to gauge the best source of information and then dashed to the reception desk, startling the young woman stationed behind it.

"Cordelia. Cordelia Chase – where is she?" he demanded urgently, his manner alone enough to fluster the receptionist.

"I … I'll check … Are you family?" she asked, protocol almost forgotten until the last second.

A beat. Barely. "Yes, now tell me where she is!" A fist crashed down impatiently and the woman visibly flinched before hastily turning to the computer screen before her.

She typed with a speed that suggested an efficiency would existence had nerves not taken over and caused her to err, yet it was not enough to appease the man before her even for a second. He waited, seeming poised for her answer with a tension that was all too tangible. The woman scanned the information before her and, with a feeling of growing dread, looked up with something in her eyes that could have been sympathy beneath the blatant fear.

"I … I'm sorry, sir, but you c-can't …"

"What's wrong with her? Cordelia? CORDELIA!" he yelled desperately, determined that he would find her, with or without assistance.

"Sir, please … you can't …"

But the woman's weak stammering was in vain as the man shoved past orderlies and doctors alike in his search. And then the screams drowned her out completely.

"Cordelia!?"

Now as close to frantic as the usually stoic man got, he charged down an otherwise quiet corridor, following the agonised screaming until he reached its source. Full of dread at what he might find, he paused at the door of the private room but only for a second.

The sight struck him instantly.

Cordelia Chase – former Little Miss Popularity of Sunnydale and now wannabe movie star – tethered to a hospital bed for the sake of her own wellbeing, writhing and crying out in torment.

The vampire had seen a lot of terrible things in his time – few were so hard to witness.

"What's happened to her?" he asked sharply of the now cowering doctors still in the room.

"We … We don't know …" one ventured, "She came in like this … We've tried everything, but we don't know what's causing it … We thought we might try a psych consult …"

"Get out."

His curt order was readily adhered to, but that was already irrelevant as he had already transferred his full attention to the young woman before him. Slowly, he moved closer and reached out to grasp her shoulders firmly. Using as much strength as he dared without risking hurting her, he couldn't quite still her thrashing body and he was lost for what to do.

"Cordy?" he said, all anger and frustration faded from his voice to be replaced by an unusually soft tone. "Cordy, it's me – it's Angel. I'm here and it's gonna be okay … I'm gonna fix this – I PROMISE …"

But she still tossed and turned violently, her cries never ceasing and he could only despair – how could he fix something when he didn't even know what was wrong?

**tbc****…**


	2. 2

**Notes:** Angel hasn't been the only person having to watch Cordy suffer - but maybe this person is better qualified than him to help ...

* * *

"Make it stop … please …"

The voice that broke the silence was soft, the accent lilting, but there could be no mistaking the sincerity, the growing fear, the pain of watching suffering and being powerless to help.

"I know ya can – yer bound ta have some pretty high up connections, all things considered …" he continued, his head tilted upwards slightly. Not knowing where he should be addressing his pleas exactly in this white silence, upwards seemed as good a place as any.

He didn't actually expect a reply – it wasn't the first time he had appealed on his friends behalf only for his words to fall on deaf ears. But there had been the occasional response – usually cryptic at best and plainly negative at worse. This time, however … This time there was an uncertainty in the faceless voice and that had to mean something, igniting a faint spark of hope within him.

"Mortal, this is no longer your concern …"

The voice came from everywhere at once and yet from nowhere. It was neither male nor female, old or young and yet it was all of those. It was hushed and strangely melodic, yet could change in an instant – it instilled a sense of awe, a sense that this was someone or something that should not be challenged, that could not be bargained with. This was an entity to be reckoned with – he had already learned that much if nothing more in his time here. Seconds, or eons. It felt like both.

Since being ripped from his world, he had passed his time here in this white nothing. Aware yet not existing. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant – it was just … nothing … Endless nothing. Unchanging. Except for one thing. He didn't know what it was, wasn't even sure it had a name, but he knew the purpose it served all too well. For want of a better word, it was some sort of scrying device, his only remaining link to the world below – a world which he was now relegated to only watching powerlessly.

It was a strange experience, being cut off yet able to watch, and he was constantly in two minds about the whole thing. At times he hated the "window", as he had come to call it – it seemed a torturous punishment to have to witness all that he could have been a part of and was now denied. But not knowing … never seeing them all … never seeing Cordy … Either way, it hurt but perhaps this was the lesser of two evils.

"Whadda ya mean? Course it's my _concern_!" he returned in disbelief. "Look at her – how could ya do that ta her?"

"We assure you, mortal, this was not the doing of any higher being …"

"Listen, pal, ya can knock the 'mortal' crap right off fer a start – how hard is 'Doyle' ta remember?!" the man shouted in frustration, blue-green eyes sparking with suppressed anger. "An' if it ain't down ta the Powers, who else could do this?"

"That is not for us to say, mortal." came the answer; the criticism regarding his name evidently having little effect.

"Then what the hell use are ya?!" the Irishman raged, "That's yer precious seer, if nothin' else – ya just gonna let yer link ta Angel be severed, are ya?"

"That is not your …"

"If ya say that once more, I swear ta God …" Fighting to control his emotions, Doyle ran a hand through his somewhat unkempt dark hair and took a deep breath – getting angry wasn't helping; he needed to make them see … "Please, there has ta be somethin' ya can do fer her – can't ya see how bad she's hurtin'?"

"We see all …"

"Well, she ain't much good t'ya like that. Look, it's in yer best interests ta get offa yer high horse and HELP her! There has to be some way to stop the visions – she can't go on like that, it'll end up … it'll …" He could quite bring himself to say what he was thinking and he lowered his gaze, the words left unsaid.

"You fear for her life."

It was a statement rather than a question, but Doyle slowly nodded anyway.

"We do not understand. You possess … feelings … for the mortal female – you would have her with you. Is that not what you desire, mortal?"

"No." he said simply, not really wanting to discuss this with a spiritual entity he knew little about and which knew little of the intricacies of human emotions. "I don't want her with me … I want ta be with her …"

"You speak in contradictions. We do not understand."

"Ya already know how I feel about her – we've been through that. I love her and … I want ta be with her … more than anythin'. But not like that, not here. Ya say it ain't yer doin' so it ain't meant ta happen – it ain't her time ta die so do somethin' about it!"

No answer.

Doyle waited impatiently – it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.

Nothing.

"Is that it? Yer just gonna ignore me now, are ya?" he snapped finally.

"It is not our place to interfere and we cannot undo what has been done, but perhaps you speak truth. All that can be done, shall be done and that which shall be, shall not be undone."

Doyle considered for a moment, trying to take in what he was being told and not really succeeding.

"Now yer just messin' wi' me!" he complained in confusion.

"Would you have her suffering eased?"

"Course I would!" he answered instantly.

"Think carefully, mortal – you should know better than most that for everything there is a price which must be paid. Would you pay that price?"

"I don't understand what I can do – are ya forgettin' the minor issue of me bein' a bit … _dead_?!"

"Answer, mortal – would you pay the price to aide the female?"

He didn't even need to think about it – if there was _anything_ he could do for Cordy, he'd do it. No questions.

"Yeah …"

And all at once, everything started to spin and coalesce; his head throbbing worse than if he had been suffering from one of the visions he no longer possessed … But just as he thought he could take no more, he was claimed by blessed darkness.

**tbc****…**


End file.
